Order In The Court

Friends, Romans, Countrymen: We salute you! Well, the time had surely come, in fact it was somewhat overdue, that the New York State court system would be sending out those fateful notices calling the intrepid citizens of this great land to strike a blow for freedom and democracy by shouldering their responsibility to serve as one member of a jury among peers, and making the promise of a fair trial into a reality - which after all, is a fundamental principle that is denied to oppressed multitudes the world over. Why, of course I would be honored to serve - as I'm sure any red-blooded American would be humbled at the prospect of this glorious privilege that is theirs for the taking, by jingo. Not so fast! The first summons arrived in June, requesting my presence during the second week in July, but I had to respectfully decline, as I would be on vacation that week - and we all know that the spies and raccoons couldn't possibly get along without me. So it was postponed until September, which is how I found myself at the courthouse in White Plains during the week, instead of at my post in the hospital, keeping the gears of the Purchasing machinery running smoothly, and humming along like a fine Swiss watch. That is, except for when my Evil Twin shows up, and then all bets are off. In any case, the week was rather more hectic than a typical week - although not all bad - and I lived to tell the tale, so we can be reassured that the Age of Miracles has not passed. It reminded me of my first foray into the justice system in these environs, so for anyone who doesn't remember it from the first time around, here it is again, out of the dusty old archives, from all the way back in February 21, 2000 - =========================== So here's my story about being summoned for Jury Duty. Bear in mind that you can go along, day by day, your entire life waiting for someone to hand you a straight line and it never happens. So if that magical day ever comes along, and the perfect opportunity presents itself to you, you know that you darned well better take advantage of it then, or waste the chance of a lifetime. Anyway, this is what happened to me. There I was at the county court house in White Plains, exercising my french fries -- no, no, I was there making myself available to participate in one of the greatest advantages this fine country has to offer, the privilege of a trial by a jury of one's peers. They were calling names for a civil trial and they selected about 20 of us to go into an impaneling room to be interviewed by the attorneys. Because this was a medical malpractice case, the attorneys were asking everyone if they had any relatives in the medical field. This person or that would say, "My sister-in-law is a nurse" or "My cousin is a doctor." The attorney would ask where they work and whatever hospital was mentioned, he said, "Oh, I know that one." After a while, he joked, "When you do enough malpractice cases, you get to know all of the hospitals." That was why I found it peculiar when he got around to me and he looked at my questionnaire and launched this puzzling query at me: "What type of care do they have at, what is this, the .... Sound .... Shore ..... Medical Center .... of .... Westchester ..... ???" He asked the question as if he was holding the name of the hospital away from himself with a pair of tongs, like we were set up in a tent with witch doctors using rattles and chicken bones, or maybe in a run-down storefront and relying on pyramids and crystals. After he seemed to know every squirrely little hospital within 150 miles, I found it odd that he wasn't familiar with a fairly major hospital not 30 minutes away. Anyway, by the time I was being interviewed, it was late and everyone was hot, tired, hungry, bored and a little bit punchy. To this day, I have no idea what I was going to say when he asked me that question. Because, when he tossed me that screwball, about "what kind of care do they have," this is what I found myself saying, "The Sound Shore Medical Center of Westchester is a fully integrated health system, providing a continuum of care across a wide spectrum of services. It is a primary health care facility that delivers high-quality, affordable care to our region and incorporates physician education, staff development, and community outreach, woven into a program of continuous quality improvement ...... " Well, I just went on and on. In case you don't recognize it, that's the Mission Statement from the hospital and I gave it to him with both barrels. I didn't stop until I got all the way to the bottom, where it says that we " .... strive to be partners with other health care providers" and that we " ... are committed to improving the quality of life" of everyone we come in contact with. When I stopped, you could have heard a pin drop. I think everyone was afraid that wasn't the end of it. Our Mission Statement is four paragraphs of long, convoluted sentences that go on forever and say absolutely nothing, but use a lot of big words to do it. For as long as I've worked at the hospital, they've been telling us we have to know our Mission Statement in case someone from the Joint Commission on Accreditation of Hospitals should ask us. So for ten years, I've memorized the Mission Statement, and NO ONE EVER ASKED ME. You can see that when the attorney asked me "what kind of care do they have" I had no choice but to throw the Mission Statement at him, in all of its ponderous and verbose glory. That poor man had no idea what he was in for with that question, but he stepped into it with both feet and I let him have it. I still can't understand why they didn't pick me for that jury. I'm figuring it was because I was over-qualified. Oh well, the moral of this story is that you never know when your chance is going to come, so you've got to be ready, sometimes when you least expect it. I finally got my crack at the Mission Statement, and I gave it everything I had. That was the highlight of my week and I hope you're having a jolly week also. John Q. Public